


Strange Love (Mad Love)

by soundtrack



Category: Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: F/M, but not much better obviously, their relationship is healthier than canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-12 13:50:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7937101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soundtrack/pseuds/soundtrack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Joker let out a grunt, ignoring her as she pressed her lips to his chalk white neck, baring her teeth and biting the space where it connected to his shoulder. He waved his hand in the air noncommittally, trying to shoo her off so that he could get back to work. She narrowed her eyes, biting harder, and he let out a frustrated sigh.</p><p>“Pumpkin,” he said in his sweetest tone of voice, the one he reserved just for her when he was on the verge of thwacking her across the spacious room. “Daddy is busy. If you can be patient, I’ll play with you as soon as I’ve finished.”</p><p>Or, </p><p>Harley wants to play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Don't Be Scared Of Biting

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah. This is based off of their apparently healthy (as healthy as two psychopaths in love can be) relationship in the new Suicide Squad movie. You don't like it, don't read it, Puddin'! ;) It's pretty short, but I may add more to this later. Keep your eyes peeled.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

_I wanna hold him so close, so tightly_

_Baby, how do I say this politely?_

_Love me harder and don’t be nice, please_

_I wanna feel your crumbs on my body_

_I want to break you in pieces, fight me_

_Baby, don’t be scared of biting_

_\- “Gingerbread Man,” Melanie Martinez_

* * *

 

“Play with me,” Harley pouted, her cherry red bottom lip poking out. She draped her arms over his shoulders as he sat, hunched over his desk, papers strewn out in front of him in a way that could only be described as a brilliant disaster. To anyone else, it was a chaotic mess, no rhyme or reason to the placement of the blueprints, but to the two of them, it was more organized than the filing cabinet belonging to someone with OCD. “I’m bored. Play with me, Puddin’.”

The Joker let out a grunt, ignoring her as she pressed her lips to his chalk white neck, baring her teeth and biting the space where it connected to his shoulder. He waved his hand in the air noncommittally, trying to shoo her off so that he could get back to work. She narrowed her eyes, biting harder, and he let out a frustrated sigh.

“Pumpkin,” he said in his sweetest tone of voice, the one he reserved _just_ for her when he was on the verge of thwacking her across the spacious room. “Daddy is busy. If you can be patient, I’ll play with you as soon as I’ve finished.”

He twitched, flicking his tongue across the cool, chrome grill covering his teeth, his eyes darting across the many words and drawings he had written out. This was the plan that was going to trap The Bat better than ever before, he was sure of it. He grinned wickedly, grabbing a coal pencil and pushing aside the paperwork until he found a clean space. They would need gas masks! Copious amounts of Jack-In-The-Box’s, and a few rats… He hummed thoughtfully to himself, already distracted once more.

Harley growled, her grip on him tightening as he dismissed her for the fourth time.

She had been home not even a weekend, and he was already back to work. Nobody ignored her! Especially not her Puddin’! She let out a huffy breath, pushing away from him and tightening her two colorful pigtails before crossing her arms over her chest. Oh, he was going to play with her, alright.

She looked over her shoulder at the henchman standing by the door. What was his name again? Paul? Parker? She frowned. It didn’t matter much. He wouldn’t be there much longer. A wide grin spread across her face, and she turned on the heel of her black and red stilettos, her footsteps echoing around the warehouse as she made her way towards him.

“Miss,” he said, keeping his posture straight and calculated as she stopped in front of him. She could see Mister J still scribbling away in her peripherals, blissfully ignorant to the game she was forcing him to be apart of. Her top lip curled back over her teeth, and she batted her long lashes up at the tall bodyguard standing before her. He was cute enough, not that it mattered much to her. She lived and breathed for her Puddin’. She pushed the sleeve of her too tight top down and off of her shoulder, revealing more of her soft, milky skin.

She had opted out of wearing a bra in hopes that it just meant that there was one less article of clothing in the way for when The Joker inevitably ripped the garments from her willing body, but it worked in her favor, now, too. Peter or Philip or whatever his name was cleared his throat, wide, brown eyes roaming over her figure, taking her in hungrily. _Oh, this was too easy…_

“Hiya, doll face. I’s just wondering if you would be so kind as to pay me some attention,” her Brooklyn accent came out in full swing, words as sweet as frosting. He leaned towards her as if he couldn’t help it, furrowing his brows, looking over her at The Joker, who had finally stilled, his attention peaked. “See, Mista J is too busy to give me some lovin’, but I _run_ on it. I’ll _die_ without it.” She pouted sadly, digging the toe of her black heel into the purple carpet, her hands clasped innocently behind her back as she swayed back and forth slowly.

“I don’t think…” A dark expression crossed Harley’s face.

“What? Am I not your type?” She grinned. “You need more of a show before you decide? That it?”

Her fingers moved to the hem of her thin t-shirt, pulling it up with intent. A gunshot echoed through the air, ringing in her ears and vibrating around her skull, her platinum hair fanning out around her as the bullet passed her by and struck the guard right between the eyes, leaving a smoking hole in it’s wake.

He fell to the floor limply and into a puddle of his own blood, splattering red across her pale thighs and white leather shorts. Harley let out a giggle, spinning around to find her Puddin’ standing only a few feet away from her, his piercing green eyes darkened and trained on her as she stood topless in front of him.

“Do you think,” he breathed out, cocking his head to the side, popping his knuckles as he stalked towards her slowly. “That you can just give yourself to anyone you please?”

She felt giddy as he grabbed her roughly by her biceps, tugging her against him so that their bare chests were pressed tightly together. She would have Puddin’ sized bruises in the morning, and the thought sent tingles throughout her body.  

“I dunno, Daddy. You’ve been awfully neglectful lately,” Joker frowned, his large hands moving down to cup her ass possessively.

“Neglectful? Well, that just won’t do,” he clicked his tongue, shaking his head and lifting her up effortlessly. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, clinging to him, the buckles on his gun holsters digging into her inner thighs painfully hard. “Daddy would never want his Harley to feel neglected.” He purred.

He carried her towards the elevator, tapping his fingers against her firm behind as they waited impatiently for it to come and fetch them.

Harley’s already fuzzy brain was swarming with fun ideas for them to try, she could hardly contain her excitement. They could play shrink and her favorite patient, or she could ask him to bring out the shiny new knives she had stolen from Batman’s utility belt… the possibilities were endless! She beamed up at him as he adjusted her in his arms, cradling her like she was the most precious thing to him.

“Oh, Puddin’... you are so good to me.”


	2. Sweet Serial Killer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Harley Pie,” he called out, his voice echoing around him and bouncing off the walls. He pulled off his purple alligator skinned coat, tossing it onto the back of a chair that now only had a single, split leg. He smirked to himself, listening as his girl padded down the stairs, her hair a knotted mess atop her head as she bounded towards him, holding two pieces of pink and blue fabric that he couldn’t quite see. Once she got closer, the sweet stench of rust and iron filled his senses, and he raised a hairless brow at her, opening his arms for her to jump into.
> 
> “Puddin’!” She said cheerily, slinging her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his, smearing dark lipstick across each of their snow white faces. He pushed her away gently, looking down at her, taking in her appearance.
> 
> “You had a fun day,” he said slowly, watching as she started to fidget nervously.
> 
> or, 
> 
> Harley goes on a rampage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if this is a companion piece to the first one or not, yet. But yeah. I like it, so. I hope you do, too. :) 
> 
> Thanks for the feedback so far! You guys are amazing.

_ Baby, I'm a sociopath _

_ Sweet serial killer _

_ On the warpath _

_'Cause I love you_

_ Just a little too much _

_ \- “Serial Killer,” Lana Del Rey _

 

* * *

 

He knows something is off the second he steps into the warehouse.

The cold building was deathly quiet, and not a single guard had come into the room to greet him. Now, that just wouldn't do. The Joker tilted his head to the side, stepping around the table that had been pushed into the middle of the room, taking in the sight of the furniture all turned upside down, even some of it ripped, straps of green and purple leather strewn across the carpet.

“Harley Pie,” he called out, his voice echoing around him and bouncing off the walls. He pulled off his purple alligator skinned coat, tossing it onto the back of a chair that now only had a single, split leg. He smirked to himself, listening as his girl padded down the stairs, her hair a knotted mess atop her head as she bounded towards him, holding two pieces of pink and blue fabric that he couldn’t quite see. Once she got closer, the sweet stench of rust and iron filled his senses, and he raised a hairless brow at her, opening his arms for her to jump into. 

“Puddin’!” She said cheerily, slinging her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his, smearing dark lipstick across each of their snow white faces. He pushed her away gently, looking down at her, taking in her appearance. 

“You had a fun day,” he said slowly, watching as she started to fidget nervously. Her blue eyes were dark, pupils blown wide as she clasped the blood drenched onesies behind her back, looking up at him through her long lashes. “Where are my men, Pumpkin?” He asked, though he already had an inkling.

He had been out all day with his favorite henchman, Frost, looking for a squeaky clean property to make their next hideout. The Bat had infiltrated their home just last week, unfortunately at a time when neither of the two were home— _ What a waste, _ he had thought—and so it was time to move on. This time, though, he had something more than just a safe house in mind. He looked down at the sheepish girl in his arms, pursing his lips. He didn’t know his Harley could look anything but self assured. 

“Oh, Puddin’, I was just telling them about all my plans for our new place, how you said I get to decorate however I want,” she started, a pout on her lips. The Joker used a thumb to wipe away the red around her mouth, sighing as it stained her white makeup pink, making her skin look irritated. Pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty…

“And?” He insisted, pulling on her wrists and grabbing the baby clothes from her clenched fists, holding them up in the air to get a better look at them. The boys outfit was ripped at the ribcage, the girls’ still perfectly intact, but drenched in more blood than the other. 

“Panda Man,” she mumbled, and Joker froze, his eyes snapping back to her face as she chewed her bottom lip.

“You didn’t,” he snarled, stepping back and away from her, his eyes wide and threatening as she bowed her head. “You know he was my favorite, Harley!” The Joker had only _one_ rule for her. Just one! When she went on her rampages, he didn’t mind cleaning up the mess. In fact, the sight of her drenched in the blood of useless, replaceable people that she had slaughtered really got him going. But he had asked her, no, he had _told_ her to never, ever kill any of the ones who amused him. Panda Man was his favorite. _Had_ _been_ his favorite. He clenched his teeth together, his fingers twitching, and he repressed the urge to whack her. His eye twitched as he watched her shrink before him, and he took a deep, steadying breath, breaking out into a fit of hysterical giggles as she peaked up at him nervously. Harleen Quinzel’s voice sounded in the back of his mind. _You don’t hurt the people you_ ** _love._** He convulsed again, his stomach clenching with the force of his laughter, and he bent over, dropping the children's clothes onto the floor. 

“He said I was a dumb bitch bimbo for believin’ you’d ever want to spend more time with me and the baby,” she whispered, and for the first time in a very, very long time, he found nothing funny in her words. He straightened up, looking down at her as she held her stomach, her normally bright eyes looking awfully dull. He sighed, closing his own eyes and gritting his teeth, clenching and unclenching his fists until the urge to push her up against a wall and wrap his fingers around her neck went from being red around the edges to being more about hearing her emit soft moans and begging him to squeeze tighter. 

“Harls, you know better than that. What did Daddy tell you?” He said, grabbing her by the chin and forcing her to look up at him as she bowed her head shamefully. “Only reason you get to keep the thing is because I want you around. Don’t forget that.” He purred, and she nodded her head, a wide smile spreading across her face as he hesitantly moved her hand away to replace it with his own.

“I knew it, Puddin’. Just went a little…”  _ Crazy, _ his brain supplied, and he grinned wickedly down at her, curling one of her loose tendrils of hair around his finger. Crazy _ for him.  _ “Sorry I killed your favorite, Puds.” 

“There will be another one,” he said, waving his hand in the air nonchalantly, leaning down to pick up the clothes he had dropped. “Go and toss these, would you, Pumpkin? Daddy doesn’t want to see them anymore.” He popped his knuckles, turning away from her before she could respond, putting his hands on his hips as he looked around the room, surveying the damage more closely. 

Huh. That Panda Man sure did grind her gears. Joker smirked, narrowing his eyes as he picked up a pillow full of bullet holes.  _ Where had she hidden the bodies? _ He wondered briefly. Three months along, pregnant with their… fetus. He scrunched up his nose, the idea of her doing any heavy lifting in her state settling uncomfortably in his stomach. Oh, no no no. He didn’t like that. He licked across his teeth. 

_How long would it take for her to become more trouble than she was worth?_

Her sharp, bell like laugh filled the air, tugging at his heart strings, and he grunted to himself. _It could not happen soon enough._


	3. Harley, Baby, You're My Flame

_Never know how much I love you_

_Never know how much I care_

_When you put your arms around me_

_I get a fever that's so hard to bear_

_\- “Fever”  Peggy Lee_

* * *

 

Harley’s head was spinning as she watched The Joker swagger towards her, a smirk on his cherry red lips, his green hair slicked back, looking sleek and dapper; stark neon against his tasteful black suit. She furrowed her brows, smiling nonetheless as he reached a hand out towards her, wiggling his hairless brows at her and pulling her up from where she sat, her blue toned red heels clicking against the tiled ground.

He pulled her close to his chest, a hand on her waist, the other intertwining their fingers and holding their arms out to the side. She rested her chin against his shoulder and he began to move, swaying them from side to side, the music loud and echoing around the almost empty building.

“Romeo loved Juliet. Juliet, she felt the same,” Peggy Lee sang out, just as Mister J spun her around, her back to his chest, their hips moving together, in perfect time with the beat.

 _“What a lovely way to burn,”_ He whispered in her ear. Her cheeks heated up and she let out a hysterical giggle as he tossed his own head back to laugh, twirling her in two, quick circles before tugging her back against him, their hips pressing together harshly.

“Mista J,” she said, batting her long, mascara coated lashes at him, biting down on her bottom lip as he looked back down at her hungrily.

“Harley, baby,” he growled, cupping her ass through the skin tight dress he had chosen for her to wear. “My girl.” He squeezed her tightly, rubbing his tongue over the chrome grill covering his teeth as she reached up to press her cool fingers to the warm skin of his chest. She pushed him away with a smirk of her own, grabbing the hem of her dress and lifting it up ever so slightly, just enough for him to get a good look at the Puddin’ tattoo on her thigh. He felt an ache in his groin and he growled, grabbing her by the wrists.

“Thought we was dancin’, Mista J,” she snickered, letting him manhandle her until he had her pressed against the wall, almost knocking her head into one of the large speakers where Brigitte Bardot was crooning, now. She felt dizzy as he breathed hotly against her lips. A grunting noise in the corner of the room distracted him for a moment, and Harley let out a huff, reaching down to pull off a shoe to chuck at Robin’s head. “Shut up, bird! You’re ruinin’ the mood!”

The Joker cackled, digging his nails in her thighs, leaving behind red crescent marks on her pale skin.

“My girl,” he repeated again, grabbing her face between his thumb, index and middle finger, shaking her a bit as she gnashed her teeth at him playfully. “Frost! Get me my machete! Our friend Batsy will be here any moment.”

“Alright, Joker.”

“What are you gonna do to him, Puddin’?” Harley asked, smoothing down her dress as he pulled away. She didn’t bother to protest, wanting to keep him happy so that he wouldn’t mind taking her to bed and really _taking her_ later that night. Sometimes, her Puddin’ could be so sweet. Most times Harley liked the rough and tough, the bruises and the blood, the hand around her throat and the tugging on her pigtails. But _sometimes,_ a girl just wanted hearts and flowers, and if she was a good girl, Mister J could give that to her. She licked her lips, draping herself across Robin’s back as he kicked at the floor, fidgeting, trying to get his hands free of the ropes.

She reached up, ripping the duct tape off of his mouth so that he could speak.

“You gonna cut off a piece of my hair to sniff, Joker?” He spat, and Harley couldn’t help the grin that stretched across her face as she laid her head on his shoulder, making kissy faces at him as he fought hard to ignore her, dark eyes trained on Mister J instead.

“Now… there’s an interesting idea,” he supplied, tapping his chin. “Guess you’ll have to wait and find out.”


	4. You Are My One, And Only

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time Harley had announced that she was pregnant, The Joker had used her as a bargaining tool in a deal with a man who couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. It was date night, she was glowing, and he was feeling… generous. The sight of his girl on another mans lap, teasing him to the point of him getting brave enough to touch her ass… it got him riled up, knowing that no matter how desperately they wanted her, she was always going to go home with him. Was always going to belong to him. Was carrying his… baby. After he had shot him in the head for denying his woman so blatantly, Harley had squeezed herself into his lap, blood splattered across her pretty face, and she gave him a wicked grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy you guys are enjoying this series so far!!! It excites me to know there are people just as enthusiastic about this universe as I am :) 
> 
> Thank you so much for the feedback and all the kudos!!!

_You are my one, and only_

_You can wrap your fingers round my thumb and hold me tight_

_Oh you are my one, and only_

_You can wrap your fingers round my thumb and hold me tight_

_And you'll be alright_

_\- “Small Bump,” Ed Sheeran_

* * *

 They never talked about it.

Whenever she showed him the clothes that she had picked up, or when she asked for a few extra of his guards to help her bring in the new furniture, he didn’t ask questions. He just nodded. _“Whatever the Queen wants,”_ he would say, and that would be the end of the conversation.

But The Joker was starting to notice the changes in her body, and he couldn’t ignore it for much longer. Her stomach was rounding out, swelling firmly and bulging so much that she couldn’t fit into hardly any of her skin tight clothing. So he found a doctor, one willing to look past their status in Gotham’s community, and he asked her to come; to bring all of her little beeping machines and gels and whatever else she had, because if he were going to acknowledge what was happening, then he was going to go all in. _For Harley._ He could lie and say that it was only to keep her amused, but he knew _(would still not, would never admit to himself)_ that it was because it would make her happy.

The first time Harley had announced that she was pregnant, The Joker had used her as a bargaining tool in a deal with a man who couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. It was date night, she was glowing, and he was feeling… generous. The sight of his girl on another mans lap, teasing him to the point of him getting brave enough to touch her ass… it got him riled up, knowing that no matter how desperately they wanted her, she was always going to go home with _him._ Was always going to belong to _him._ Was carrying _his…_ baby. After he had shot him in the head for denying his woman so blatantly, Harley had squeezed herself into his lap, blood splattered across her pretty face, and she gave him a wicked grin.

Joker didn’t know when it had happened. Maybe during the crash, where she flew halfway out the window and the glass poked through her golden romper and into her stomach. Maybe during the struggle with the Bat, or from the inhumane conditions at Belle Reve. Harley wouldn’t talk about it, and he certainly wasn’t going to bring it up himself.

He knew she looked at this as a sign; a second chance, of sorts. He hadn’t been sure if he was even going to let her keep the first one, but after that first glance at her after all those months she had been missing, her stomach still flat, body still shapely… he knew that if it were to ever happen again, he would not deny her of it.

And so there they were.

“My main concern is your lifestyle, if I may be so bold as to say,” Dr. whatever her name was said, pulling on a pair of blue gloves after she had finished hooking up the ultrasound machine. The Joker sat quietly, for once, by Harley’s side, watching with narrowed eyes as she pushed her raggedy t-shirt up and over her stomach, a bump that was not there last week suddenly poking out like a very small hill. He twitched, wanting desperately to touch, but refraining.

“I haven’t been out much recently, Doc. I swear!” Harley insisted, settling back against the many pillows on their large bed, her palms resting just above her hips, fingers brushing across her own skin subconsciously. The doctor gave her a look, one that said she clearly didn’t believe her, but she said nothing, grabbing the clear bottle of gel from out of her bag instead.

“I’m surprised you haven’t had any complications, yet. At least _monthly_ checkups are typically necessary. How long did you say that you’ve been aware of this pregnancy?” She asked, smoothing the gel across Harley’s stomach. She giggled, goosebumps raising the hair on her arms at the sudden chill from the liquid. Mister J’s fingers twitched, and he leaned forward, watching intently.

“Oh, Puddin’, how long would you say?” She said, turning to look at him. His eyes found hers and he examined her face, clenching his teeth together as he took in her appearance. Her multicolored hair was up in a disastrous mess of a ponytail, her cheeks hollowed out and under eyes sunken in, the dark, purple bruises there a stark contrast to her wonderfully soft, pale, white skin. If he were capable of admitting that he had any sort of sliver of an emotion other than utter madness, how, in a million years, could he express his distaste for what this _thing_ was doing to her? She looked incredibly unhealthy. His favorite toy appeared to be withering away right in front of his eyes.

“Five months, give or take,” he said anyway, looking up at the doctor as she scribbled away on a clipboard before returning her attention to Harley. She picked up the wand, pressing it to her stomach and suddenly, the room was filled with a quick _whoosh, whoosh, whoosh_ noise. He watched his girl instead of the screen, her eyes trained on the black and white image there, her hands pressed to her cheeks excitedly.

“Look at ‘em, Puds! She’s as big as a cantaloupe!” She beamed, and he grunted in response.

“Actually, Miss Quinn…” The Doctor hummed, squinting at the screen. “She, is most definitely a he,” Mister J winced at the sound of Harley’s squeal, and he closed his eyes as she started to clap her hands excitedly. A bouncing baby boy, then. Joy to the world.

“Mista J! Can you believe it!” He could believe it. There was a fifty, fifty chance that it would end up a boy, but he bit his tongue. He felt himself growing impatient, so he stood up, cracking his knuckles and watching as the smile on her face faltered, the corners of her mouth tugging downwards.

“That’s enough noise, Harley,” he snapped, tugging his gun holsters back on over his royal purple button up shirt, his white chest peeking out from underneath the fabric. She snapped her mouth shut tightly as he left the room, slamming the door behind him. He needed to… he needed to kill… _someone._ He wanted to watch the light go out of their eyes as he cackled over them. He wanted to feel their pulse slow underneath the tips of his fingers… he wanted to get out.

He stopped in his tracks as the Doctor started to ask more questions.

“Do you have any idea what you’re going to name him?” She asked quietly, her voice much softer than it had been before. He waited curiously for her answer, his interest peaked.

“Oh, I like the name Waldo,” Harley answered after a moment, sounding uncertain. He reached for his gun, ready to pull the trigger if the good Doctor had anything negative to say to his girl. He wasn’t happy with their current situation, but he wasn’t going to let anyone spoil her fun.

“Waldo… well, that’s a mighty fine name, Miss Quinn. Let’s get you cleaned up.” The Joker's shoulders relaxed, and he clenched his teeth, dropping his hand from his weapon.

Maybe he could find a few puppies to kick. 


End file.
